


Day 23. Guarded

by Munnin



Series: Fictober [23]
Category: Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 21:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16375385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munnin/pseuds/Munnin
Summary: Savric expected to find himself locked in the brig, not having tea with a former queen.





	Day 23. Guarded

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re just joining in, I urge you to read the [whole series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1145777) from the beginning. Some of these stories read fine alone but they’re all part of a larger interwoven plot.

Savric was surprised to find himself escorted to a comfortably appointed state room, rather than the ship’s brig. When he realised he’d been captured by a Republic cruiser, he assumed it was all over for him. 

He’d chosen his side and he was willing to accept the consequences for that. From both sides. 

Instead of security officers, he was greeted by a lady of much his own age. A woman of substance and breeding judging by her dress and manner. 

“Senator Ishsha. Please, sit down.” She gestured to an imitate circle of couches rather than the large desk. “Have you been injured?” She glanced to the taciturn Jedi who had escorted him.

The younger sandy-haired Jedi shrugged and scowled. Sav got the feeling the man didn’t like him. The feeling was entirely mutual.

Uncertain and off-balanced, Sav fell back on his training as a senator, taking a tone of formal politeness. “Thank you, m’lady. The injury is not a recent one. I was wounded during the bombing of Indupar City. It normally doesn’t trouble me but I seem to have misplaced my cane.” 

“I shall arrange to have a new one found for you at once.” She promised. The Jedi scoffed quietly and she glared at him. “You may go now, Master Jedi.”

“I’ll be right outside.” The Jedi glowered at Sav. “Just in case.”

She ignored him, instead smiling warmly to Sav. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary. Senator Ishsha is quite safe with me.”

Sav misread people sometimes. It was a failing he was aware of, but he had the distinct impression the lady and the Jedi had fallen out over something recently. Her coldness seemed too deliberate, too pointed. 

The door slid closed behind the Jedi and Sav felt himself relax. The Jedi’s presence made him feel on edge.

He bowed to the lady, a little wobbly but he managed it, then waited for her to sit before taking a seat himself. “Forgive me, m’lady. I’m somewhat out of touch with Republic dignitaries. I don’t believe I know your name?”

“I’m so sorry, how foolish of me. My name is Padmé Amidala. I’m the Republic Senator for Naboo.”

“Lady Amidala.” Formality steadied him as he bowed to her again. As soon as she’d said her name, he was able to place her – the former Queen of Naboo. He wasn’t sure about the idea of non-hereditary royalty but he was trained from birth to respect it. “It is a great honour.”

“Padmé, please?” She smiled warmly. “Or Senator Amidala if you must.” One of her handmaidens came over, kneeling to set a tray down on the table between them. “Would you like some tea?”

“Thank you, no.” He watched the young woman rise with grace, frowning softly.

“You’d prefer caf?”

He nodded absently and girl glided off to prepare some. “The Naboo use human servants to fetch and carry?” He mused, not realising he’s spoken out loud. “Not droids.” 

“Yanna is my aid, not my servant.” Padmé corrected lightly, a smile pulling at her lips. “And you’ve just made her day. Her family grow and roast the finest caf on Naboo. She despairs of the fact I don’t drink it. And I think the idea of a culinary droid anywhere near her caf machine would offend her.”

The young woman returned with a steaming cup of caf, grinning warmly. “It would offend me mortally, m’lady.” There was laugher in her voice as she set it down. “From my father’s plantation on the slopes of Mount Gallo, best caf in the galaxy. Even if _some_ people don’t appreciate it.” 

As Amidala laughed, Sav realised he’d completely misread the situation. That this young lady wasn’t a servant but a trusted aid and, by their jokes, a friend.

_‘Who am I to judge? I let the pilot die without ever learning her name.’_

He looked down into the caf, feeling his shame sting.

Padmé put down her tea, “Senator Ishsha, are you alright?”

“Yes. Thank you, I-” It was a terrible break of protocol but he found himself answering her honestly. “No, I’m not alright. I’m uncertain of a great many things I once held to be true.”

It was like the bombing all over again. The ground that had once been firm under his feet was now shaken to the bedrock. “If I may speak candidly, m’lady? Why are you being so kind? Am I not the Republic’s hostage?”

She frowned at that and folded her hands. “You were rescued by a Republic ship. For the time being, you are our guest, for your own protection. You were attacked by Asajj Ventress. An assassin we believe to be working for Count Dooku.”

“Count Dooku ordered my death?” Sav looked up sharply, forgetting to keep his eyes lowered in respect. “Why?”

“We rather hoped you could tell us that.”

He looked back down at his hands, finding them shaking. It took him a moment to steady his voice enough to speak. “The Tactical Droids I programmed for the Confederacy. I think… I believe they’re being use in ways… ways I never… it was never my intention for them to kill. They were meant to save lives, to end the war sooner. Not-” 

“You heard about Ryloth?” She asked softly.

“Yes.” He hated the weakness in his voice, the self-loathing.

“I know it wasn’t what you intended when you programmed them.” She rested a soft hand on his shoulder.

“How could you know that?” He stiffened, suddenly guarded.

“The Republic forces were able to capture a tactical droid for analysis.” She leant back to sip her tea. “The coding was intensely complex. Fortunately, we were able to contact a very talented slicer to assist. How was it he put it? _The symphony wasn’t being conducted the way the composer intended._ Or something along those lines.”

Sav huffed bitterly, lowering his guard a little, both at the complement and the odd turn of phrase. “Your slicer has a way with words. And he’s correct. I programmed the tactical droids, but I never wanted them to be used the way they’re being used. I… I went to Count Dooku, believing it was an error. Some glitch in their programming. I was willing to make reparations for my mistake and correct it.”

“But Dooku knew it wasn’t a mistake.” She offered him a sympathetic smile. “You’re free of the Separatists now. If you ask for asylum with the Republic, we can help you right the wrongs being done with your droids.”

He hesitated, looking down at his caf, toying with the mug just to keep his hands from shaking. “I… I don’t know. It’s all happened so fast. What will become of my worlds if I defect?”

“I don’t know.” She answered honestly. “But providing aid to your worlds is something we can discus.” 

He nodded and sipped the caf. His stomach was still roiling from the escape pod but he tasted it. Out of respect for the young lady who had made it and her family. It really was some of the best he’d ever tasted. 

“Perhaps you should sleep on it.” Padmé suggested. “You’ve been through a trying time. Get some rest. We can speak again tomorrow.”

It took him a couple of false starts to stand, taking her words as a dismissal. The shock of recent events were catching up with him. Twenty-eight years old and already he felt like an old man. “Senator Amidala, may I ask a favour of you?” 

She nodded, offering him an arm to lean on. 

“If you’re able, would you make an inquiry of the Jedi for me?” He sighed, unsure now he’d said it out loud. “My sister Tarika Ishsha. She was taken to the temple to be trained before I was born. I’d like to know has become of her. If… if you’re able to find out, m’lady.”

She nodded and helped him to the door where an aid with a cane, and the scowling Jedi waited. “I’ll do my best. Now rest, Senator Ishsha.”

“Savric, please?” He corrected softly, bowing his thanks. “I don’t think I can lay claim to that title much longer.” 

***

Anakin waited till the Separatist had been escorted to his quarters before slipping into Padmé state room. She was busy tidying up the tea things and pointedly ignored him.

“Do you believe him?” Anakin asked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Yes, actually. I do.” She set the tray on a counter. “He’s shaken and afraid. And he has no reason to lie. I genuinely believe he wanted to help, to end the war sooner and save lives.”

“I still don’t understand why they wanted you to be the one to interview him.” He muttered darkly. “He could’ve been dangerous.”

“And if he was, I could have handled him.” She pointed sharply. “I’ve faced down far more dangerous situation than a single unarmed Separatist with a limp. Or have you forgotten that?” She arched a challenging brow at him.

He gave a begrudging huff. Didn’t mean he had to like the idea of her being put in danger unnecessarily. 

“Besides,” She went on, hands on hips, “Obi-Wan was right. Savric Ishsha was raised in a traditional monarchy. My royal history gave me an edge no Jedi would have had.” She frowned, thinking of Savric’s request. “Do you know a Jedi named Tarika Ishsha?”

Anakin shook his head. “Why?”

“She is his elder sister. She left for the Temple before he was born. I wonder if that’s where his distrust of Jedi comes from.”

Anakin shrugged, nonplussed.

Padmé cuffed him across the shoulder then, looking around to make sure none of her aids were about then kissed him. “Find out for me. It might just give us an edge to recruit him.”

“Whatever you say.” He muttered, returning the kiss. “Madam Senator.”

**Author's Note:**

> Josh, my hero.


End file.
